Lofty Praise

Congrats to King Randall, who as of today finished a textbook lost weekend. Most notably, pulling off what we in the know refer to as The British Isles.

A bottle of Scotch on Friday, gin all day Saturday, and a modest sum of Irish whisky to spell the beers on Sunday. Nice variation of a Hat Trick.

By the pricking of my thumbs...

The balloon is going up. The war against wallet and liver begins in approximately 24 hours.

Random Thoughts

Last night I found out a few interesting things while having some beers downtown at the brewery.

• Not everyone goes out for drinks on their birthday. I had been invited to come have birthday drinks at the brewery for a friend. It rained out their softball game and that apparently cancels the party. I'd think that would allow extra time for drinks and celebration at the bar with friends, but no. I can only assume there was relaxing hair-braiding for hours last night while Sarah McLachlan played softly in the background.
  


• One of the authors has a puking problem. Maybe this is what he does in all his spare time while not writing for the blog. Hell, I can't think of a better topic to blog about on a drinking blog. The only place it would be a better fit is on a puking blog. Is there a "pukingknoxville" blog out there I don't know about? A note from Garth of Wayne's World: "If you're going to spew, spew in this"
  
• Lortabs and IPA go together really well. Really, really well. Usually a 4 or 5 "IPA dinner" is enough to sate me for the evening, and still is. But add some pharmaceuticals to the mix and you've gots yo-self a narcotic cocktail of splendid delight! It almost makes me wish I could go to the dentist more often to rack up on these treats. I don't think the agonizing 2 hours in the dentist chair is a fair trade-off though.
  
  

The Lame Game

There are few things as sorry on this miserable ball of mud as the drunkard who falters along the path. Last night, the authors ran across an old friend in town for a wedding. While we were cavorting with the groom, it became evident that after years of drinking sloth he is a pale shadow of the once potent alkie that I once admired.

When he reads this in a few days, presumably back home on the left coast, I hope he is shamed. (Only eight or so drinks a month? You pansy!)We helped raise this fellow during his underage years through his twenties with great care and interest. Was it his own marriage that caused him to scale back his drinking? Nope, she's cool. Religious nutbag? Nope, he is as irreverent as ever...this is a case of laziness and lack of effort.

Well, we're going to remedy this atrocity. Fucker best put his drinking clothes on for the weekend, 'cause the shit is going to hit the fan.

Update: Pukey McPuke...heh heh...see what slowing down does for you? How did you get back to the room, sir?

Missing In Action